Into the Deep
by Sam.Dls
Summary: Makoa the Half-Orc is a green adventurer traveling with his human mentor the Sage. Follow their adventures as they meet new friends and fight mysterious foes.
1. Chapter 1

PACTS AND PROMISES

It had been seven days on the road to High Tower when they first glimpsed the looming palisades of its walls. The sun was rising in the East and it made the ornamented domes and roofs shine like silver. Makoa had walked nearly two hundred miles in full combat armor, stopping only when the senseless villain decided to start a surprise dual with his ridiculous cane sword.

One moment he would be walking with his head down, thinking on his family that he left in Blackrock, and the next he was exchanging blows with a wild eccentric who loved to fight as much as he liked to stare at beautiful women. Multiple times he had been knocked to the ground wearing his training plate, which for some reason was twenty pounds heavier than his actual armor. This would require that he defend from prone until he had been bludgeoned sufficiently with the hollow cane end of the cane sword.

Now, as they walked the few remaining miles to High Tower, Makoa wanted nothing more than to collapse into a warm bed, free of his armor, that had rubbed his entire body raw, and his infernal grieves, that had no doubt worn holes into the joints of his toes.

At the crest of a steep hill, the Sage waited patiently, staring off into the middle distance as though he were a sculpture of some sort. His sunhat was canted towards the dawn and his cloak billowed about him. He took the time to light his pipe and take a good drag before he addressed the beleaguered half-orc.

"Almost there Boy," he said cheerfully "I've been cheering for you this whole time. Just gotta take things one step at a time."

Makoa did not answer for his lungs could not take in enough oxygen to do so and make it up the hill. Ten meters, nine, eight, he thought to himself. At last he let himself collapse and lay on his belly, the plate grinding and clanking together in mockery as he did. The sun beat down on his furrowed brow and he exhaled causing a fresh billow of loose green grass to jet from his mouth.

"Don't get to comfortable bastard," The Sage began with a laugh. "Look on to the completion of your journey before ever resting your feet."

That ridiculous cane of his pointed towards the towering city and Makoa followed it. There between them and the city were many such sloping hills that he must scale, all of them impassable save over the narrow-cobbled road that they had been following.

Perhaps the sage expected this to defeat him, and Makoa felt it in his heart, that it nearly did. But instead, the sight of the city, that city of his youth where he was not welcome, where he was not a citizen to be accepted; somehow the prospect of finally being able to walk beside those denizens forced his spirit back into the clouds.

With effort and no lack of what the Sage called hysterics, Makoa made it back to his unsteady feet and began the descent.

It was nearly noon by the time he and the Sage rested at the main gate of High Tower. Makoa stood swaying and silent, sweat dripped from every pore in his skin. Three guards wearing plated steel armor with blue plumage watched them as they passed. The young half-orc nodded his head at them slightly and one of the guards, faceless behind his visor made the motion with two fingers on his right hand that he would be watching him.

The beauty and enormity of High Tower Stretched out before them in the form of sounds and smells and the sight of lavish buildings and bustling streets. They had entered through the main gate and so they were greeted at first by the displays of young squires and men at arms fighting with dulled blades. Makoa watched these men intently, gauging their skill against his own. They wore all kinds of armor and wielded an assortment of weaponry that Makoa had never known existed.

Around a tall and seemingly impregnable fort there were men in matching sets of armor, running about with purpose, talking amongst themselves about a fight they were about to enter. Makoa guessed that these men were part of the city's brigade.

Once they passed the fort, there opened up a vast financial district. Men wore lavish clothes of red and yellow and blue, and women the likes of which he had never seen wore dresses and kept their hair in buns or pigtails. There were things that he had not known existed, buildings such as banks and courthouses and theatres. These things were crowded with the softer sort of creatures that his father and his uncles had told him of.

"This isn't your world orcling," declared the Sage. "Don't bother trying to understand it."

The sage walked them farther into the city, where there were more of their kind about, the common folk. They stopped at a well-to-do inn named the Pointed Hound. Here the Sage purchased them a room for the night. Makoa was grateful that there was some confirmation they would finally be ceasing his mad death march.

After a stoic nod from the innkeeper, Makoa plodded upstairs to drop off his mobile prison. There were two beds in the room, and two night stands. A footlocker rested beneath each and there were two wide-set windows where the bustle of the Inner Quarter could be seen.

"You have the rest of the day to yourself Orc," the Sage said humorously. "Go and chase one of those young Half-Elf women about why don't you."

"I'm not terribly interested in any one type of woman," Makoa replied letting the heavy chest piece to his armor fall to the bed.

"Before you set off to slay the proverbial dragon, here,"

The Sage tossed him a rough coin purse from the other side of the room.

"Go buy yourself a proper sword, something suitable to your wild, hacking, finesse-less nature."

With that the Sage lowered the brim of his sunhat and passed out on his bed almost as if by command.

Makoa changed into what he had brought along from Black Rock, but he soon realized that his traditional garb was not going to suffice him any longer as a traveling half-orc adventurer. He donned his steel toed boots over a fresh pair of his woolen socks, tucking his cargo pants into them instinctively. With a last look at the resting Sage, he grabbed the coin purse and set out.

At the landing to the winding staircase, in a darkened corner he counted the contents of the purse. His eyes widened as he touched each platinum coin and dropped it to the table beneath him. All in all, he had 175 gold pieces. He tucked them silently into the crotch of his cargo pants between his underwear and the crotch pouch he had fashioned so as not to be robbed.

It was not long before the noon-high sun was beating down on him once again. This time however he felt light and agile, without the encumbrance of his training plate. He walked amongst the common folk, mostly human and smiled at them cordially. A child would stop and stare and then wave awestruck at him as Makoa would make them a funny face.

He had made it to the city market before he knew it, walking with a mixture of non-hume denizens now. Dwarves were once again underfoot and he found the notion to be comforting, these of course were his people. The steady hammering of smith-work reached his trained ears and he headed left at one of the first few intersections he encountered.

"Hey, green-skin." Came a familiar tone of voice. "Watch your giant flat-feet okay?"

Makoa looked down slightly and saw a dwarf standing in his way. He was wearing an ornate breastplate, a winged helm was in his right hand, and slung over his back was a great two-headed axe.

"I will brother; you have nothing to fear from me." Makoa replied cheerful.

The dwarf stared in amazement as Makoa nodded warmly and stepped around him with ease.

"Wait!" cried the dwarf.

The sound of hurried steps reached Makoa's ears and he stopped.

"I know you Orc." Shouted the great dwarf for all the crowd to hear. "I know who and what you are!"

"Oh really?" asked the young orc with excitement. "Do you know my uncle Baldor? Or my father Erdin?"

Again, the dwarf stood in silent bewilderment, the look Makoa could not place but he knew that it was not a good sign. He felt a need to explain further.

"They always travel together the four of them. My father is Erdin of Hammer Peak, he has auburn hair and bright blue eyes, he's of a height with you actually, and he has a voice like cracking stone."

The dwarf was speechless, his trembled in his fine armor and his helm came clattering to the ground at what Makoa noted as realization.

"You…" stumbled the warrior dwarf. "You are Erdin's boy?"

"I am indeed Brother. And who are you?"

"I? I am Haudil of High Tower. Knight of the small-folk here in the Inner Quarter." He said proudly.

Makoa nodded and offered his calloused right hand in friendship. As was the dwarven way, he did not bow, or stoop to the dwarf's stature out of assumed kindness. He offered the hand free of acknowledging that there was a difference between them. With what appeared to be tears in the young dwarf's eyes, he took the hand mightily and smile up at Makoa.

After a moment of respectful silence Makoa realized that they were being watched. A crowd of dwarves and men and a few full-blooded elves had formed about them. Makoa smiled nervously, waving his left hand above his head as though addressing a procession of adoring fans.

"This is my brother Makoa of Black Rock." Came Haudil from his side now. "He is to be treated as such."

With that Haudil beckoned that he follow, and Makoa went after him.

"So, what brings you to High Tower this day?" Haudil asked walking at what Makoa figured to be his brisk pace.

"I am here with a man called the Sage to resupply before we head to a town called Iverstead." Makoa said plain.

"Ah, to the point I see." Haudil entered a building that Makoa had not taken heed to assess before he did and followed suit.

It was a tavern, with dwarves filling it to the brim with laughter and spilt ale. As Makoa ducked through the door, the laughter and music stopped, but he could not notice for he was so consumed with the sight of so many of his kinsmen at play.

"What are you destructive lot looking at? Can't you see he's my kin?" Haudil called out making the room shake with the boom of his voice.

The music began to play slowly and talking recommenced as Makoa and Haudil took their seats at two stools near the far end of the bar.

"Barkeep! Two ales for me and the big fella!" he bellowed over the growing din of the crowd.

The barkeep, a dwarf close to middle age stopped for a moment and then nodded his ascent.

"So Makoa," Haudil began. "What is it that forced you from your father and his folk? It's not oft that you see a lone half-orc wandering about High Tower, especially one with the name of fellow dwarves on his tongue."

"My apologies brother, but before I say more may I ask how you know of my family?"

"You may indeed."

Two large pints of ale came sliding down from the other end of the bar and Haudil caught them with a skill that could only be acquired through performing the task a great many of times. He offered one up to Makoa one and tilted it to his lips. It was at this moment that Makoa realized he had not taken the time to observe the dwarf's features aside from his immaculate armor.

The dwarf was smooth skinned and young looking; he could be no more than thirty or so years old. His beard was black and plated with what appeared to be ivory, and his eyes were a steely green that reminded him of his father's. The skin of his face was sun kissed, and his odor was not that of soot and coal but rather oil and dirt.

"I knew your father as a great dwarf warrior, back when he was my father's shield brother." Haudil said after a long pull from his mug. "He used to visit our home with your uncles before and after a campaign and they spoke of their deeds often."

Makoa was confused.

"My father told me that he was a miner, that he always had been. How is it that you now tell me that he was some kind of great warrior?"

"It's the truth Brother. Your father was a great warrior, and a great leader. He fought in the Orc homelands and drove them back into the ocean and across the sea. We dwarves have little land as you know, and we are now forced to work at the leisure of men and elves. Your father and mine helped to secure what little it is that we have."

It was too much to digest, and Makoa felt that Haudil sensed this. The dwarf patted Makoa's left hand with his gauntleted right firmly and took another swig.

"It doesn't matter now Makoa. All of those stories can be told at another time. Just know, that your father was my father's shield brother, and that makes me yours. Now tell me, who is this Sage?"

The young orc-kin told Haudil of his travel from Black Rock, the forced march, his parting with his family, and the many skirmishes he endured from his mentor along the road. By then he was in his cups a fair bit, which was to say he had possibly finished another pint. The dwarf was easily of his senses and he laughed along at the parts Makoa knew he would. Dwarves had a rough sense of humor.

The sun was showing half past five when they made it out into the street again. Haudil took him to a smith where Makoa was talked into buying a large and cumbersome blade he had never seen before. Haudil told him that it was a falchion, orc in design but forged by a dwarf, which made it clearly the superior of all weaponry.

Makoa parted with eighty gold pieces for the thing and a sheath to keep it in. Haudil kept him company as he did so and talked about the greatness of their kind. He even spent a few kind words upon Makoa's lineage speaking of the fierceness of orc warriors and the dedication of their women to their children.

Next it was to a tailor, where Makoa was sized and fitted for under armor, mostly leather padding and cotton silks. That cost him ten gold coins. He purchased a pair of steel plated boots that fit him well, costing him another ten gold coins.

"You look decent Brother, more and more like an adventure and much less like a wet eared former miner." Haudil said cheerfully through a bite of lamb leg.

They were walking now on the main road, with Makoa towering over most of the denizens here, for this was dwarf residence.

"One last place and I will deem you fit to be my shield brother."

Haudil led the way back out of dwarf quarter and into a darker part of the market. Here the buildings were close together and only a few narrow alleyways allowed movement of a thinning crowd. There was so little room that Haudil would go ahead and block off anyone coming down the alleys so Makoa could walk through.

His plated boots clattered softly as they fell onto the cobblestone walkways. The falchion was strapped to his back in its large sheath and took up the entirety of his frame. The handle was above his head by an inch and the blade's tip touched just above his knees.

Just before dusk the pair made it to an armorer deeper within the market area. The sound of a hammer and folding steel caught Makoa's ear some ways before the shop was in sight. Haudil walked around the front of a stone building and found the owner at his trade.

A large half-orc stood before Makoa, almost a head taller than he, wearing a crimson apron and black cargo pants. The half-orc's tusks were larger and more defined than Makoa's, his ears were pointed like the orcs of stories that his family had told, and his brow was more square, his jaw more pronounced.

He tilted his head slightly at the sight of Makoa and then stood straight over his current project.

"You bring me one of my kind Haudil. I pray you don't think me to be empathetic with his man-orc."

"Not at all Davor. But I do know you to be the finest smith for his kind."

"Pleasantries are not your forte young dwarf, and yet I find myself softened by them." Davor sighed. "Tell me boy-orc, what do you wish to accomplish with that weapon and my armor?"

Makoa almost stammered in response. "I wish to do good."

The half-orc moved from around his table and stood before him, towering in height over Makoa.

"What are good and evil, boy-orc? Is it as plain as light and darkness?" Davor smelled the air before Makoa and snorted loudly. "You are not a half-orc boy. You are more of a quarter orc with a forgiving genetic take."

"I did not bring my shield brother here to be insulted or dissected by your cynicism." Haudil declared plainly.

Davor sighed again and relaxed his menacing stance.

"What is your name boy-orc?"

"My name is Makoa of Black Rock. Son of Erdin of Hammer Peak." Makoa said with a burning pride.

"A strong name for a common orcling. Strong at least for an orc raised by dwarves. However impractical the notion." Davor said returning to his table.

He returned with a measuring tape and went to his work. When all of his measurements were taken he logged them down into a book and brought out steel ingots. Leather strips were brought down as well and the forge was lit.

"Do you wish for payment?" Makoa asked warily.

Davor turned his head, the light of the fire caught the strong features of his greyish face.

"Tomorrow boy-orc. Perhaps around this time." Davor growled.

Makoa and Haudil turned to leave but that voice reached to them from the furnace.

"And boy," he called. "Never offer payment before a service is done."

The rest of the night, Haudil spent plying Makoa's worries with ale and songs, and it wasn't long before the young orckin had forgotten his sole brethren by blood. It was a quarter to midnight by the time Haudil walked a drunken Makoa home with the help of three of his band. The barkeep took him to his room at the behest of the most famous dwarf in High Tower and a silver coin.

Before he knew it Makoa was out for the night across from the sleeping Sage, still laying where he had left him.

Dawn came and went and it was hours after before Makoa woke from his drunken slumber. His body had metabolized the ale well and he awoke without a hangover. The Sage was absent by then. Makoa donned his new clothing and made for the Pointed Hound where he found Haudil sipping from a water skin responsibly.

"Good morning Brother." Makoa greeted taking water from his own pouch and drinking it greedily.

"Aye, good morning indeed." Haudil replied. "The Gray Maidens have arrived from across the Bay of Tears. They are a lively bunch, and downright handsome women if I do say so myself."

"Gray Maidens?" Makoa asked confused. "What do you mean?"

The dwarf sighed and stood from his stool.

"Come on Brother, must I show you everything of value in this world?" Haudil led the way out of the tavern and back out of Inner Quarter.

Makoa moved along gracefully, dodging the now smiling children of the more affluent neighborhoods. It was a decent walk before they reached the main gate, Haudil had stopped twice to refill his water skin at a public water point.

A procession was just entering the city; trumpets had been sounding for a block or so but now Makoa could see what the occasion was. A large ornate carriage rolled down the main thoroughfare pulled by eight large black draft horses. Before it rode knights clad in crimson red capes and plumage and smooth and lithe looking steel armor. Their steeds were pure as snow and their visors made them look as birds of prey.

"Don't you see Brother?" Haudil asked from below the front of the crowd. "Those knights, are women!"

Makoa took another look with his naive and unobservant eyes. And indeed they were. Their breast plates made room for their womanly features and the metal skirting they wore was wide and sweeping. He sighed a sigh that he thought to be foreign to his own mouth and force it shut with effort.

The lead knight dismounted with haste and skill, almost as fast as Makoa was able to observe and action and moved before the crowd. The throng of onlookers backed away as the Knight drew out a long bastard sword and gestured that they make room. Makoa backed away with effort.

All at once trumpets blew and drums beet and the crowd was kneeling with Haudil pulling Makoa to the ground with all of his weight.

"Bow Brother," he said with his own head bent. "She is the queen."

Makoa made as the others hurriedly and stared at the worn cobbles. Sounds reached his ears, breathing, the clattering of hoofs, and the sound of those heavily steeled boots upon the ground. Moments passed and the crowd became restless before the trumpets released them from their fealty. Makoa looked up just in time to see one of the Gray Maidens remover her helm, and all at once Makoa understood his Shield Brother's meaning.

Her hair was black as night and her eyes were amber. Beneath the visor her skin had turned a pale white and her hair flowed down to her middle back. Haudil again had to rouse him from his stupor.

"Hey Brother, she's far beyond the reach of mere mortals such as you. Best to forget she's a woman and just see her as a goddess of sorts." He laughed airily and led him along the way back to Inner Quarter.

Noon rested over them and Makoa took his leave to find the Sage. He asked around for a short while until he found his mentor in a tavern farther North of the Quarter, sipping on bourbon and talking to a complete stranger. Makoa politely interjected before he sat down with them.

"Makoa the Orc, meet Alistaine the Bold." The Sage said between a drag of his pipe.

"Pleased to meet you." Makoa said shaking the man's hand and gaining the measure of him.

Alistaine was at once foreign and familiar to Makoa. He had the look of a scholar of magic, with long robes and a pointed had that framed him a wizard. His features were kindly and wrinkled and he had a beard that touched down to his chest of salt and pepper hair. Sea grey eyes were set into his kindly face and the whiskers of his mustache completely covered his mouth.

"Good day to you, young warrior." Alistaine said with an accent that denoted proper birth. "Your mentor was just talking of your exploits along the road. I pray that you suffer no more ridiculous trials at this man's behest."

"It is my duty kind Sir." Makoa sighed. "My father Erdin has given me over to this Sage of sorts for training."

"I dare say that sounds to be a dwarvish name." Alistaine exclaimed excitedly.

The wizard started to shuffle through his tan robes into pockets that Makoa did not at first realize existed. After a short exploration he withdrew a leather notebook and a bottle of ink and set them upon the table. There was a short pause and then the wizard looked up as though he had remembered something.

"My goodness. I am aware of your occupation and your recent history and yet have shared nothing of myself."

"Oh, there is no need Sir Alistaine, the boy is…."

"Shush shush shush shush shush… Nonsense. This young man is a member of our discussion and is entitled to know the quality of the company he keeps." He waved off the Sage to Makoa's amusement and then turned to him.

"My name is Alistaine of Scarborough. It is a town inside of Bright Keep. I once was a renowned wizard in these parts but have given up that lifestyle to be a scholar at the local Mage's College. With it being summer and all of the younger mages having gone back to their homes for much deserved rest, I am traveling the hold in pursuit of magical knowledge."

"That is extraordinary Sir Alistaine," Makoa replied. "I have never known a wizard before."

"Ah, we are few in number my boy, hardly any young lad wishes to wield a tome over a sword. I happened upon magic as a boy." Alistaine explained, nostalgia drawing his gaze from Makoa to the middle distance between them.

"But that is a story for another time Lad." He said coming back to his senses.

He touched back upon his notebook and withdrew a quill.

"Now then, if you would be so kind to tell me, where do you call home?"

The quill scratched a blank page in his book and drew black ink upon its surface.

Alistaine spent the afternoon documenting Makoa's childhood in his notebook, asking questions only when Makoa became lost in his own story. After a time, the Sage excused himself and asked Makoa to meet him back at the room the next morning so they may prepare their provisions for their journey to Iverstead.

The Scholar was tedious and precise and yet patient and genuine. With every new fact Makoa recounted to him Alistaine shared a bit of his own life and Makoa found that he enjoyed his company very much.

Around supper time they broke their reflections and enjoyed beef stew with large hunks of potatoes and fresh carrots. It was explained that Alistaine would be following their tracks to Iverstead the next day for he had heard their library had a vast assortment of knowledge on the arcane arts.

Makoa and his new friend parted after their meal and shook hands vigorously. With that, he started off back towards the Inner Quarter to meet Davor and pay for his new armor. The streets were dark when he made it to the shop and the larger orc was resting his feet upon his furnace.

"Good evening." Makoa greeted from afar.

"That has yet to be seen." Davor replied sitting up.

Without a word he trudged into his shop for a moment and returned carrying a large wooden crate without a lid. He placed it down upon his workbench and sighed quietly.

"Half-helm made for an orckin," he said pulling out a rounded helm with a three slotted drop visor. "All of the pieces are made of thrice folded steel and silver."

The helm was large and had slight holes for hearing. It rippled wonderfully in the light of the orc's forge.

"Shoulder plates, with leather chest plate and metal shirting. You pull the things on like you would a tunic and slip your arms through. All of these plates are sewn with leather padding on the inside, so you won't chafe like I saw in your last shit set of armor."

Makoa listened to the things clatter softly on the table and walked up to the bench.

"Gut guard, it's a leather belt that you clip in the back and tighten in front. The metal work is the same as all the others. Next you have front and back thigh guards and shin plates."

He pulled all of these out and showed them to the young half-orc with a slight sense of pride. The younger orc stared in amazement and then a sense of dread came over him. He did not have enough to pay for all of this, and yet he wanted it all so badly. With hesitation he went on to say as much.

"I knew you would not be able to when I made it boy-orc." He growled lowly. "That purse of yours was too light last night."

Makoa looked on in shame.

"It's yours." Sighed Davor. "With no cost in coin."

He looked up at the towering smith confusedly.

"What do you want for it then?"

"Bring me the head of the first evil thing you slay." He said plainly and returned to his forge.

The next day he woke with the Sage and donned his armor with excitement. It took him awhile to figure out how it all went together. He had spent the night looking at the half helm on his night stand and working over the words of his kin. As he was putting on his boots and shin guards he wondered what the orc had meant.

"Makoa," came the Sage's voice. "Grab your pack and let's be off. I've waited on your fashion show long enough."

They spent the morning working their way through the market buying provisions for their journey. Makoa ended up carrying the majority of the weight and found it to be much easier without the terrible shit-armor that he was forced to make his march in. They bought jerky and water and a sack of large potatoes for their food.

Makoa had already brought a fair amount of gear and needed very little. His purchases were done quickly and the Sage shortly thereafter. They returned to the inn and packed their things in their sacks accordingly. Once they were complete the Sage went to find Alistaine the Bold and Makoa ran off to find his Shield Brother.

Like clockwork, he was at the Pointed Hound, his beard deep in a bowl of the fresh chowder of the day.

"Good afternoon Brother." Makoa greeted as he sat beside him.

"Good afternoon." He replied stuffing his mouth full of muscles and hunks of potatoes. "I take it you fancy your new armor then."

"I do indeed." Makoa stood to show off his stature.

"Aye, a proper warrior now. Not some soot covered miner."

"Thanks to your."

"Oh, I daresay you would have found your way without me. Although with much less style and charm."

They shared a laugh and Makoa ordered a bowl of chowder from the barkeep. Makoa told him of the conversation that he had had with Alistaine the Bold and of the promise he had made to Davor. His older brother took it in well and chewed his food deliberately as if to display his intent listening nature.

"Sounds like something the orc would say now that I think of it." He reflected after a large spoonful of chowder. "He was always a cryptic one, even before he set up his shop here in the Quarter. Working with dwarves that hardly know any better will do that to a half-orc. Davor proved himself more civil than even the most civil of us."

"How long have you known him?" Makoa asked.

"Known him is a stretch, I would say I knew of him." He slurped the broth of his chowder from a new bowl and wiped his whiskers. "Davor was brought here against his will actually by the city guard, accused him of being some intelligent war chief they found out in the foothills. I can't rightly tell you who he would have been leading. Orcs stay away from the plains and stick to the underground or mountains."

"Why did they detain him then? If he wasn't a threat?"

The dwarf sighed and shook his head faintly.

"I'm sure that your father told you, but half-orcs aren't necessarily the most kindly taken towards people. Even out here in what the humes like to call civilization. I regret to say that even I am not trusting of a half-orc when I first meet them. If you don't remember two days ago."

"Ah, I hardly noticed." Makoa said through a grin.

"Anyway, Davor was jailed for a week or so, tortured for information on more of his kind and where they were hiding. Finally, the people here rioted on the city prison and demanded he be released on principle. Not much that the guard could have done then."

A silence formed between them and Makoa let it linger as he thought on the orc who had gifted him on principle. Makoa had never known that side of humanity, he had never known that side of his father's people. Slowly he settled back down into reality and cleared his throat.

"Did you riot with them Brother?"

Haudil lowered his spoon into his bowl and looked up at Makoa with an apologetic look.

"I'll never not riot again."

The two parted with kind words and a pitcher of ale for the road. Haudil was to be part of a vanguard of dwarvish knights riding to West Watch, a fort a day's ride from Iverstead. They swore to see each other at the Pointed Hound in a two weeks' time and embraced warmly.

As Makoa lay down in the warm bed of the inn for the last time he wished that he could have rode out with his Shield Brother.


	2. Chapter 2

IN THE SHADOW OF IT ALL

The road to Iverstead was well walked until they came to a fork in the main road. The Sage followed the path without hesitation though and Makoa did as he was bid. For the first day of the voyage he thought on the friends that he had made and wondered when it was that he would see them again. He thought of his father the secret warrior of wars with his kind and he wondered why it took him meeting Haudil to learn of it all.

With these ideas swarming around his mind the day fell quickly into dusk and he and the Sage found a nice warm cave to sleep in. That night they ate their rations with little enthusiasm as the taste of real food was still present on their pallets.

Starry night shone above them, cloudless and promising and with it sleep took Makoa swiftly.

In the morning, they awoke before dawn. Their things were packed and ready to go and they resigned themselves to take bites of jerky for energy rather than waste time making a meal they would scorn.

Birds were overhead, and they finally escaped the hills that had plagued them near High Tower. Now they found themselves upon a wooded trail, with trees bare of leaves and the earth damp and dark. Makoa tread carefully here, as this was not the type of terrain that he was used to. The Sage made a few stops along the trail to ensure they weren't being followed.

By midday, the sun had become relentless and they laid out a tarp from their bags and dropped their packs to rest until clouds from the East promised to alleviate them. Makoa took this time to use his new falchion. Its weight was almost too much for him, but he spent hours practicing the falcon-posture that the Sage has gone over with him. Striking down upon his enemies to use the weight of the thing to great effect.

After an hour or two he was drenched in sweat and his arms ached from carrying the blade. He rested against a tree until the clouds saved them.

It was another hour or so before they left the wood, leaving behind visible footprints in the muddy earth. They scaled a saddle and looked down into the valley below. A long river stretched from east to west and let off into what Makoa knew to be the Bay of Tears to the North East. A thick green wood marked the land here, and off in the distance Makoa made out the towers of a small township. It was still a day's walk for them, at the Southern shores of the river and to the East.

"Iverstead," the Sage said through a breath. "The mountain looms over it most of the day. They call it "The Village in Shadow.". I call it a shit heap."

Almost as if his eyes had betrayed him, Makoa had not seen the mountain there until the Sage referenced it. South of the river a long mountain chain stretched before them, as it followed the river to the bay. To the West, Makoa caught a glimpse of several towers on a high peak.

"West Watch?" Makoa asked.

"Indeed. It is the last outpost before the hold ends and the Nine City-States begin." The Sage said starting off at his hurried pace again.

Makoa gave the fort one last look before starting his descent.

That night, they camped at the edge of the wood. Makoa forced himself to make food to recover his strength and he and the Sage ate blackened potato spears and salt pork with a good portion of water.

It was midday by the time they reached Iverstead. The pair had forded the river earlier that day and were soaked entirely. Makoa had held their provision over his head as he had bobbed for breath in the icy water.

From here the mountains towered high above and their peaks were black like the furrowed brown of some dark and menacing creature. Clouds shifted above and misted over the peaks slowly.

Iverstead had walls of thick wood from the forest to the North, fifteen feet high and speckled with towers here and there for the archers of the city watch. Their gates were the only thing made of iron, heavy and meant to keep the wilderness at bay. Out in front of town a small farmer's market had sprung up and women and children and men wearing the clothing that Makoa was familiar with patronized the local vendors.

"Get us some cheese will you?" the Sage said looking miserable in his soaked cloak and soggy sunhat. "I am going to meet our employer."

Makoa nodded and did as he was told. The people here were wary of him, which was to be expected. He quickly redeemed his appearance by saving one of the small ones from being kicked by a not so friendly mule. His back throbbed with pain from the blow he had suffered. To his surprise and luck, the mother of the child was a dairy farmer's wife and she gave him a medium sized wedge of goat cheese for his heroics. Even with the pain, he walked back to the Sage triumphant.

The local inn was called The Cardinal Sin, which made the young half-orc uneasy. As he entered there was a universal pause of activity before the Sage called him over to his table. A young woman, wearing a low-cut blouse came and served them and stared at Makoa with interest. Makoa of course did not realize this at all and ate his roast chicken with something akin to wrath.

Their employer was the captain of the town guard. His name was Sir Alfred Winslow, a knight in the hold, and a former tactician for the royal army (as he told it). He treated them to supper and inquired about their journey from High Tower.

His bushy brown mustache and thick black eyes made him appear plain, and yet his broad shoulders made one wonder. Sir Alfred waited quietly while they finished their meals before he changed the subject towards business.

"I trust that you understand discretion is the key here gentlemen, we cannot have any of this getting back to the towns folk." He implored before they began.

"Of course, Sir, we are but humble adventurers here to make our mark upon the world. We are not here to subvert the efforts of this town's defense." The Sage said to soothe the captain's worry.

"Very well. As long as that is understood."

The man looked about and exhaled long and clear.

"The peaks above the town have been aglow with torchlight the last fortnight. Many of the guards have come to me and asked that they be allowed to set out a scouting party and see what is going on up there. But I do not have the men to spare, we need every sword we can get here to ensure that the town is secure from raiders or worse an invasion."

"I see." The sage said darkly. "You think it bandits hiding up in the caves?"

"No Sir, I think it goblins."

Makoa felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His eyes went from the captain to the Sage, both of their jaws clenched.

"It is their natural dwelling place Sir. Why would we be willing to scour a cave for goblins if they are most likely preoccupied with their own wars in the world below?"

The Knight leaned closer to them, the light of the candle at their table hot on his right cheek.

"Children have gone missing." He whispered.

Makoa almost bounced from his seat with the fear.

"There is a river to the North of you, is it possible that the children have been washed away by it, or perhaps lost in the wood at your doorstep?"

"We searched the wood, high and low, for days. There has been no sign of them, these children, they are not disappearing during the day, they are stolen from their beds at night." He swallowed.

The Sage was breathing steadily, his eyes not betraying anything other than calculation.

"You posted this as a simple exploration job, nothing to do with scouting goblin war posts."

"No adventurer would venture into a goblin cave willingly. I needed to get a response."

"And if we walk away then, for your deceit?"

"Then the children will keep disappearing. And the guard will eventually demand to send a search party and they will die."

"Makoa, grab our things we leave tonight." He said pointedly.

"Wait." Sir Alvin almost shouted.

"One thousand gold pieces are yours, if you only find out what happened to our children." The knight pleaded.

The Sage thought on it frozen, and was about to walk away. But Makoa had felt his heavy heart break.

"It was yours." He said quietly, looking at Sir Alvin dismayed. "It was your daughter that was taken."

A tear fell from the large man's eyes and he brushed it away with a heavy hand. The Sage reassumed his seat at the table.

"Yes." The man replied. "My daughter, Lydia was taken three days ago. After I posted the request, after the Hamilton boy was taken."

Makoa let him speak.

"It was still that night, the guard saw nothing, no one saw anything. I had checked on her before I went to sleep. She was resting in her room." He explained. "It happened between midnight and three A.M. I woke to check on her, wary of the Hamilton boy's abduction. She was gone, there were bloody nail marks on her window sill, there were muddy prints about her bed."

"What would a goblin need with a child if no ransom?" said the Sage.

He nodded.

"If you let the guard go into the cave, then they will kill everything, they must purge the cave with fire and then there goes any chance of you seeing your daughter alive."

Sir Alvin nodded again and this time set his weary head in his right hand.

"We understand Sir." Makoa said soothingly. "We will help you find your daughter."

The knight spent the rest of the exchange providing details about the girl, about the scene of her abduction. It was nearly midnight by the time that Makoa and the Sage made it to their room. Makoa sat on his bed, his armor put away for the night and thought on the situation.

"Why volunteer us to save his child, hmm?" the Sage asked filled with an anger Makoa had not seen before.

"Because it is the right thing to do."

"Oh, get off of that already. Do you think that people do the right thing?" He mocked. "Nobody does the right thing anymore. Better us leave this forsaken town before we get killed up there tomorrow."

"I thought you weren't afraid of anything?" Makoa said teasing.

"I'm not afraid of any man," he shouted. "But goblins, are not any man or anything for that matter. Have you ever fought a goblin horde before?"

"You said it was a cave."

"No, that weeping oaf downstairs said that it was a cave. Goblins don't just snatch children if their numbers are few. They bide their time, multiply, and then go after people. They're not stupid creatures orckin."

Makoa was silent.

"More likely than not, there is a goblin horde that stretches the length of this mountain chain out here. Goblins don't need fire; why would they be using fire at night to draw attention to themselves?"

More silence. The young orckin's lack of knowledge was disarming and the Sage found himself doused with the realization that Makoa was not him.

"Goblins are dark dwellers, they, like you have dark vision and can see at night in even the worst kind of blackness. You can do the same, as I'm sure you've realized. Goblins only use fire for magic and war. Both of which bode terribly for us."

"If we follow after this girl, we will need to go deep into the mountains, we will need to fight our way in and fight our way out against potentially thousands of them. Have you ever killed a goblin before? They are nasty, mean, and dangerous."

"If things are so terribly against us why not just drag us out of here then?" Makoa asked confused. "Why not ride to West Watch and alert the knights there?"

"Because if we do we lose the bounty, and I'm a greedy bastard. And because I've always had a soft spot for children." The Sage said after a long sigh.

The journey up the mountain was treacherous for the Sage, but Makoa knew this type of terrain well and walked far ahead of him. Each path they took was worse than the last until finally, after much walking they came to a stretch that was about as wide as a man and pressed directly against a sheer cliff.

Makoa bounded it with the grace of an overlarge and armored mountain lion and the Sage cursed him every step across the thing. As he waited, Makoa realized that he was standing in the mouth of a dark cave, his eyes peered deep into the thing and found nothing but cave walls and then a steady down lope into the mountain.

He drew his falchion and walked sure footed over several sets of meatless bones. The walls were chiseled with some kind of ancient tool and the etchings of small beings with claws and fangs filled them.

"Koa," whispered the Sage from the mouth of the cave.

"Right here." He whispered back.

"Let's tie us together shall we?" the Sage asked with a faint grin.

After being tied together with a thick length of rope, they descended into the cave. The going was slow, with the Sage behind him following with uncertain steps as he went. Makoa made sure that the Sage always had a hand on his shoulder to guide him.

The tunnel narrowed for several hundred meters, until Makoa had to turn sideways to fit. He observed etchings and scratches in the walls here and guessed that it was from the metal armor of the cave's denizens. The footing was even here and worn smooth from frequent use. Hardly any rocks scattered the ground and made it easy for them to move noiselessly.

Up ahead, Makoa could see the cave start to brighten slightly and he nudged the Sage to make sure that he was aware. As they neared the opening, Makoa could make out an odor that was somehow familiar to him. He smelled them about, the goblins. He heard them scurrying below, and felt their hive mind of hatred for something he could not understand. An unknown entity of sorts.

He whispered this to the Sage, resting their backs against the tunnel wall.

"It's your instincts, orc and goblins have a linear history, you both hate each other for the same reasons. You're just the superior breed of cave dweller."

Makoa smirked at this. At the corner of the tunnel Makoa stopped them again and the Sage let him know that he could see. He smelled them, three goblins around the tunnel entrance. He felt the shift in the air and knew that it was a large antechamber. He again relayed this to the sage.

"Outpost, most likely a guard station to keep track of intruders and warn the horde. If we aren't quick and even one escapes, we have to abort or say goodbye to our chances of escaping."

Makoa nodded.

He readied his falchion and followed the Sage through the opening at a charge. The room was indeed large, and inside of it four crudely fashioned pillars seemed to hold the rest of the mountain overhead. It was ten feet tall, allowing Makoa to stand straight up. There were four in total, all clustered around a pair of brightly luminous crystals.

Their small frames were covered in crude metal armor and leather strips. They stood three-feet tall or so and had twisted blades and dented shields. They seemed mesmerized by the crystals and were caught unawares by the sudden appearance of the towering figures.

As they spotted the pair of them, one tried to run deeper into the tunnel but the sage sent it to the ground with a heavy rock to the helmet.

Makoa leapt forward slashing one clean through with his falchion finally biting into the back of the thing's chest plate and sending it across the room with his follow through. Another one made to flank him but Makoa saw it coming and side stepped its initial slash. It jumped backwards to avoid what it anticipated to be a wide sweeping slash from his falchion but was instead met with another rush and kick to the chest that sent it clattering to the ground. The creature let out a shriek before he cut off its head with his blade.

The Sage had killed the other two without any hassle and they continued down the tunnel. They could hear them moving about now. The goblins were working forges and talking their terrible language all about them. Makoa found that he could make out certain words that were akin to his own dwarf tongue. His mind raced as he tried to piece together some of their sentences but the dialects were too dissimilar.

Farther down the cave widened again and this time the antechamber was huge. The little devils cast eerie shadows upon the walls as they moved about. Makoa looked out and saw the source of that pale white light. More of those luminous crystals, ones the size of buildings jutted up from the ground here. And the goblins were tirelessly working with picks and hammers to loosen them from the earth.

The chamber was a mine and Makoa did not know how far down it went. The goblins were hard at work with not one of them watching the threshold from one tunnel to the next. Makoa and the Sage lowered themselves to the ground and crawled the length to the other side. Afterwards, they stood in the entrance to another tunnel and went on their way.

Halfway through the curving tunnel, Makoa smelled some of them coming their way. With a few words to the Sage they decided to rush them. The pair came barreling down the tunnel and slammed into half a dozen goblins, the things howled and shrieked, but there came deafening boom from behind them that drowned out the noises. Makoa stomped one's skull open and sliced another one in half before the Sage had regained his footing. Another slice and he split one that attempted to flee from its tail bone to is sternum. The sage sliced the throat of a pair of them as they writhed on the ground beneath him and Makoa crushed one's throat with ease as he smashed it into the wall beside them.

"We need to hide these." The Sage declared panting.

He heaped the dead bodies onto Makoa's back and walked the length of the tunnel before finding a deep well they could throw them into. The thing was so deep that they did not make a sound.

The tunnel forked before them, one maintaining a steady gradient to the right and the other plunging into darkness. Makoa stared down the dark one and could hardly make out anything at all.

They were almost at a loss until Makoa recognized a familiar scent in the stale air. He could not place it, but it called to him from the deep tunnel and they walked on.

"What do you smell?" the Sage asked quietly.

"I'm not sure, but I've smelled it recently enough."

Their tunnel was winding, and there was no noise coming from below or above. Trace amounts of light were the only things that remained down here and Makoa started to lose confidence that it would get any better. As the thought crossed his mind though, there came a faint light from up ahead. The half-orc took cautious steps and led the Sage to the source of the light.

The closer they came to the source, the more Makoa recognized it as flames. This was not like the other antechambers they had been in. The air was filled with sulfur and Makoa had to cover his face with his left hand. As he rested his back to the wall, he realized that there were low voices down here, all of them chanting in unison.

Hairs along his arms began to prickle and stand up and his eyes burnt from the smoke coming off of the flames. Makoa forced himself to look around the corner and into the room. Inside, there danced nearly two dozen goblins, all wearing ornate mantles and masks, they carried lit torches and chanted in unison their chirping and guttural language.

Before them blazed a giant bonfire and at the foot of it rested the frame of a small child. It did not vex him that it was there, but what did was what was floating above the child. Against the flickering flames and dancing figures, their hovered a whisp of air black and cold and changing. It floated above the little boy and began to disappear into the boy's chest.

Makoa sprung from around the corner and pulled the unwary Sage with him. He brought his falchion too bare and slashed this way and that with all of his might at the unsuspecting goblins until he had fell nearly six of them. A surge of screams and curses met them then and the unarmed little imps fled from his wrath.

The Sage spun to his left with ease and stabbed and hacked a few of them to pieces before they could escape. As Makoa made to reach for the boy he realized that along the walls there were several other children trapped in cells, all of them looking upon the terror before them. He spotted a young girl among the others and knew who she was. He could smell the Captain of the guard clearly upon his daughter. He trampled a few of the frantic goblins as he sprinted for the cages and pulled the weakened doors straight from their hinges.

" _You imbeciles."_ Came a duality of voices that made Makoa's skin crawl. _"You think to steal from me? Those fresh souls, their fleshy bodies they belong to me!"_

"Makoa, this isn't about goblins anymore, we have to run!" shouted the Sage over a din so loud Makoa could not focus.

He grabbed the girl and as many other children as he could and ran for the tunnel only to see a whole swarm of goblins bounding down the passage. With no time at all to think he turned to see the speaker and saw that it was the little boy. His wiry and emaciated frame stood on two feet, his eyes white as the sun and a toxic shadow wreathing him.

" _Get them!"_ he cried, half boy half something terrifying. _"Get them all! Kill the man and the orc-beast but leave the children unharmed!"_

The Sage grabbed his arm and led him down a passage that Makoa had not seen. The children were screaming in the dark but Makoa had them in his arms and they were not going anywhere. The passage sloped upwards, and he was encumbered with four children kicking and shouting in his arms. He could hear the Sage behind him cursing as he plodded on behind, smashing goblins into walls and hacking them down with his cane sword. Even now, the notion of that ridiculous cane sword made him fight a mad laugh.

Up ahead, he made out the sound of running water and his heart leapt in his chest. The tunnel was lit by moonlight as he rounded a long turn and he spotted a chamber free flowing with white water. He tasted fresh sweet air, and felt cold on his face. Without a moment to pause and think he leapt into the white foam and felt it pull he and his charges along. The last thing he heard before he fell into the night sky was the sound of the Sage splashing into the water behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

SIEGE AND RESCUE

Makoa felt free fall for a steady four seconds, and the impact jarred him full on. He held the children tight to him and opened his eyes to see nothing but foam. The current washed him some ways farther under the surface and then calmed. With all his remaining strength he forced his way above water and let the kids go.

The Sage toppled into the water afterwards and immediately made it back to the surface cursing and shouting as he went. They all made it to the shore with effort and lay on their backs heaving with exertion.

"Sage," Makoa called not even bothering to look around. "What was that back there?"

"I have some idea but no real answer," the Sage said panting "Long story short, we need to put as much distance between us and whatever the hell that is."

"I found the Captain's daughter." Makoa said motioning to the little girl between them.

The Sage, somehow found a new bought of strength and sat up staring at the black-haired girl with wonder.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"She smelled of him, I did not recognize it until we reached the chamber but she was what led us down there."

"Makoa," he started rising to his feet.

The half-orc rose with strain and looked the direction he was gazing. A long snake of torches was making its way down the side of the mountain. He could hear the war drums of goblins and the sound of their screeching and yelping. One of the boys said something but Makoa could not hear over the frantic racing thoughts in his head.

They were on the other side of a wide cut in the mountain, in a pool less than fifty feet across. If they had moved too far in either direction after their jump they would have died on impact. Two hundred feet above them there was the flow of the river.

Makoa sheathed his falchion and stood to help guide the children along the way down the mountain.

It took the band of six two hours to reach the foot of the mountains and Makoa knew that they would not make it in time with them in tow. Down here at the base, there were a few farmsteads dotted about the plains and the Sage led them to the nearest one. It was an unassuming Carrot farm, with a few hounds bounding around the property barking loudly as they approached. It was located nearly a mile from the next nearest homestead.

Across the flat landscape, Makoa could make out the walls of Iverstead and then above it the snake of flame much farther down the peak. He wondered if the town guard knew what was happening.

"Get off me you mongrel!" shouted the Sage as he pushed a large deer hound from his chest. "Not even a good guard dog, just letting stray orcs into your yard!"

A creaking sound echoed noisily as the door to the homestead opened. It was a man of average height and weight, with no beard to speak of and a pair of overalls on. He was wielding what appeared to be an axe and beside him a small boy pointed a bow at them all.

"Sir, please." The Sage started putting his hands into the air. "We rescued these children from the mountain, they were kept prisoner by some terrible creature and a horde of goblins."

The man looked bewildered and relaxed his grip on the axe.

"Look, to the mountain over Iverstead." The Sage continued. "See the fire?"

Again, the man followed his instructions and he trembled slightly.

"A horde of goblins is about to descend upon the town and murder everyone inside. We need a horse."

"Do we look like some rich folk you can just take a horse from on your own errand?" the man asked sharply. "We don't have no horses an' even if we did we couldn't just let you take one with you."

The Sage was stumped, and looked to Makoa for assistance.

"At least watch these children and keep them safe. We cannot travel with them and will need to run all night to reach Iverstead. Most like too late to help at all." Makoa added.

"We don't have food for that lot. What do you…"

With a loud whack the man clutched his head and was sent reeling into the yard. Behind him stood a large woman, not large in weight but large with what Makoa knew to be muscle and she drove the man into the yard and sent him running from it and tumbling over the cobble stone fence to be leapt upon by the excited dogs.

"You worthless, half-witted ninny of a man!" She bellowed as she turned her gaze to the sopping wet children and their exhausted wards.

"Oh you dears, of course they are welcome in _MY_ house." She said gesturing to the farm. "You boys need some quick food I'll bring some stew, only a mouthful for you on your way."

As promised the stew was rabbit and delicious and it warmed Makoa's stomach as it was served straight from the pot. The children were scurried away inside and the man was still fighting off his dogs.

"You two, there are horses at the McCarren's down the road a mile towards town. Tell them Maggie sent you and they will know you speak true. My boy, Philias will ride one of the hounds to West Watch and sound the alarm, hopefully the knights will make it in time." She said hurriedly.

Makoa and the Sage looked at each other in bewilderment one last time before they hurried off down the road. As they left the yard, they heard a whistle and watched as the young boy who had been carrying the bow leapt on the back of one of the great hounds and raced off over a hill into the light of the full moon.

The McCarren's were indeed welcoming to their request and they allowed them to borrow their horses along with a safety deposit of the rest of Makoa's gold. Two well bred horses waited in the barn and were saddled for them by the eldest son of Jacob McCarren, the owner of the farm. He was a man by right, and had been a squire for some years before he had taken an arrow to the knee. There would have been some narration of the tale but the man's father was adamant that they not let the town be pillaged.

After a few minutes' preparation, the trio set off at a gallop towards Iverstead.

The snake was all the way down the mountain when they made it to the gates, the moon was full above them. Outside the city, the town guard and the able-bodied men had formed ranks, ten deep and twenty across. As they rode up to the company sized contingent, Makoa recognized the Captain.

They dismounted the horses and stood beside him.

"Captain," the Sage shouted. "We have found the children!"

He looked at them and seemed to recognize them with a sudden alarm. He leapt from his horse and pulled them near him.

"Where are they, where is my daughter?" he asked frantically.

"She is safe Captain, at Maggie's homestead some ten miles from here." Makoa said hopefully.

"Maggie, that wonderful woman." He sighed with relief.

They grabbed his shoulders to steady him without making a scene. A short while passed for him to catch his breath and he exhaled a lungful of air. Then, without missing a beat he continued his questioning.

"You," he started "What did you find in that cave?"

"Exactly what you thought we would Sir." Answered the Sage. "And then far worse. A demon almost, some apparition that possesses the souls of children. I believe that whatever it is, the goblins worship it as some deity."

"How many are there? How many march on us now?" He asked with urgency.

"We do not know, we managed to sneak through the caves and just happen upon the creature. But my guess is that the mountain is infested and there are thousands of them in there. Mining some kind of brilliant crystal, to what end we do not know."

Captain Winslow nodded and hastened to remount his horse.

"You two have done enough. If I die, my wife is aware of our agreement, she will make sure that you are paid. If you desire, stand and fight with us, if not than Godspeed."

Makoa and the Sage remounted their horses and entered the town.

"Makoa, follow me." Shouted the Sage as he diverted from the road to the inn.

"But…" was all he managed before his horse obeyed without his heeding.

They trotted down the main road until they reached the local tavern, The Vague Vagrant. The pair tied off their horses to their respective posts and Makoa followed the Sage through the front door. Inside, there was no barkeep, most likely because the town was deserted in preparation for their impending doom.

There, alone and completely undisturbed sat Alistaine the Bold. He was wearing a pair of navy blue traveling robes and his hat was cocked to the right side of his head to allow the light of his candle to catch a tome he had buried his face in. Makoa smelled a fresh leg of lamb somewhere in the back and his mouth watered.

"Sir Alistaine," called the Sage.

"Oh, goodness," the wizard exclaimed and looked their direction.

The two of them must have looked ridiculous, covered in mud to their knees and goblins blood on their chests, smelling of evil magic and wet dog.

"My dear friends," he started. "What has you so encrusted in such nastiness?"

"A story too long to tell Sir Alistaine," Makoa deflected. "But we are in great need of your help."

The Sage looked at him interestedly.

"Don't we?" Makoa asked after catching the sages somewhat reproachful look.

The grizzled Sage turned to Alistaine after a short pause.

"Alistaine, the boy and I came upon a dark creature. Something beyond our power to defeat. Ethereal, and evil. It is controlling the army of goblins that now descends upon Iverstead."

An elated look came over the mad wizard and he went into his robes again looking for what Makoa guessed was his notebook and a bottle of ink.

" _ **Where did he pull that quill from the first time?"**_ he thought to himself.

"Kind Sir," the Sage interrupted.

For the first time since Makoa had known him he looked angry.

"Please, we need your help. This thing will kill these people; it will kill everything. I sensed that it has aspirations for more power and left to its current course it has the potential to become something we cannot hope to defeat."

Alistaine appeared shocked, he fumbled for words first appearing angry, then sad, then distraught until finally he managed…

"You mean it will destroy the library?"

The Sage almost shook the man until Makoa interjected.

"Yes Sir Alistaine. The books will be burnt and all of the arcane knowledge this place once held will be destroyed."

The wizard leapt from his seat pulling the Sage up with him and began a march for the door. Wisely, the Sage let go and followed along behind the fuming wizard giving Makoa an approving and somewhat warm look.

As Alistaine the Bold stepped out into the night air it seemed that the tide of battle had turned in their favor. The man stood to his full height even taller than Makoa and he whistled loudly from the porch of the tavern.

"Goblins… blasted creatures. They have always had a distaste for the written word…. Little heathens the lot of them… if they had their way there would be no books left in this world… by Jove there would be no alphabets at all!"

From across the town they heard the sound of galloping and a chestnut brown mare entered from the meadow at the far end of town. It raced up beside them and Alistaine leapt upon it.

"If the goblins are indeed marching they are marching with fire, the town must be protected."

With that he flung his staff into the air and shouted some words that Makoa did not know at all. A loud crack of thunder sounded above them and all at once a single wave of water fell from the sky to drench the town. Makoa felt the weight on him like breeching the surface of a hot spring.

"The town is defended from those torches now we must confront these devils and their vile puppeteer." Alistaine declared loudly, his hat centered on his head with the brim dripping water.

The three companions set out towards the town gate and exited in time to see the horde, torches extinguished entering the clearing between the wood at the foot of the mountain and Iverstead. Their shields were raised before them, their ranks so deep that Makoa did not know if they could be defeated by the meager force assembled here. He prayed that Philias had made it to West Watch in time.

"Men, men form ranks two men deep!" Alistaine shouted into the air.

"Who are you to give orders to my men!" exclaimed Captain Winslow, riding up to stare at the elderly man as though attempting to intimidate him.

"You… you… you," stuttered the wizard.

A swift smack from the furious wizard's staff rang upon the Captain's helm and knocked his visor down upon his face.

"When was the last time you defended a city from a goblin horde, hmm!?" Alistaine inquired.

Makoa and the Sage shared a look.

"I say…"

"I say shut it good Sir," Alistaine demanded as he sent another ringing blow about the Captain's head. "Now show these little imbeciles some respect and widen your ranks before they are enveloped and overrun!"

The Captain fumed in his helmet and felt somehow, Makoa sensed, a little defeated.

"Men!" he shouted.

Their swords rang from their sheaths.

"You heard the wizard! Double ranks, spread out to envelope the North side of the city!"

The Captain rode off to lead his men and Alistaine followed to the head of the army with Makoa and the Sage in tow. Drums sounded in their chests and the goblins watched them as they made their preparations for battle. As the group made it to the head of army, the thumping ceased. Makoa checked his armor and unsheathed his falchion. The Sage drew out his cane sword and threw his cloak to the ground revealing a set of leather and plate armor.

"You lied to me." Makoa exclaimed.

"What idiot walks around without armor on… in a war?" he asked simply.

Suddenly, the goblins charged with screeches and howls. The multitude of them painted the rolling green fields black with their crude armor. He could feel the line wavering, the fear in the men at this horde of evil. He smelled soot and blood and sweat upon the field. A torrent of sounds greeted him and then his senses dulled. There was no sound as they charged, there was nothing but the scene.

Almost as if he could count the number of seconds until they impacted their lines, Makoa felt his lips moving and forming numbers. As he made to dismount his steed, a large hound raced by him on either side carrying what appeared to be an armored dwarf.

"Makoa!" Shouted Haudil as he flew past him on a giant black hound. "Get your head out of your ass and shield me!"

Through every gap in their ranks a dozen dwarven hound knights bounded through them, wielding lances and spears and hammers and axes. They rode into the enemy and cleared a path wide and deep.

Alistaine ushered his steed at a sprint and the army followed after, with Makoa and the Sage right out front. Mounted dwarves danced among the ranks of the goblin horde and laid waste to their numbers quickly. Makoa let his steed run off as he threw himself from it and rolled to his feet. His falchion was out and he swung it from above slaying goblin after goblin as his shield brother raced by skewering a pair of them together at the end of a lance.

"You gotta be faster than that Brother!" he shouted from his hound, bringing his axe to bear. "Use our people's fable stance not some human pose!"

"I don't know what that is!" Makoa shouted feeling one of the little things plant a dagger into the meat of his thigh.

He picked the thing up kicking and snapped its neck before putting weight on his leg expecting pain. But instead the gash felt hot and then cold without ache. Makoa turned to see Alistaine on horseback waving both hands his way and watching as his flesh knit back together.

"You're doing well Makoa my boy," Alistaine shouted pulling out a brilliant steel sword from one of the pockets in his robes. "Pick up the pace!"

"I'll show you how a dwarf fights Lad!" Shouted Haudil as he leapt from his hound. "Priscilla, go eat some goblins!"

With that he rolled into a cluster of enemies that had been herded together by the dwarvish knights. With a flurry he rotated his body as quickly as he could and swung the axe out in front of him killing several as though he were some gruesome four-foot cyclone.

"That's how it's done," he shouted wildly bashing his way through his mortal foes.

The Sage was about like lightning slashing and stabbing and knocking the little things back. His sword was light in the dark armor of his enemies and they piled up about him before they became wise and started to flee.

"Sir Wizard," bellowed Captain Winslow over the din of combat. "A second wave is advancing upon the main gate; our right flank is compromised!"

Alistaine looked that way and recognized the danger. A second later he was gone from his steed entirely. With a flash of light and a small clap of thunder Alistaine the Bold warped the ground beneath him as he appeared directly before the gate. The goblin flanking party cowered for a moment, their eyes filled to the brim with a terror for white magic and then they recovered. Alistaine faced down the foes unwavering.

Makoa had been at a dead sprint through the battle as soon as he saw his companion in danger. He hacked a goblin in two with a twirl as his shield brother had showed, his falchion was a gust of light before him as a trio of goblins attempted to bar his way, and he hurtled the last few yards between he and the wizard to let out a terrible roar from his chest.

It echoed against the tree line and startled the goblins with a primal kind of fear, it rang across the battlefield and stopped, if for the briefest of moments, the chaos of combat. And then he plunged into them with his falchion ablaze of blue flame. He nearly dropped the thing, but he realized the wizard's magic at work and kept slashing and hacking his way into the enemy.

"Aye, green one." Came a woman's voice from his right.

A flurry of arrows rained down upon the beleaguered goblins from the South and they fell in fours and fives. Maggie, the giant stag woman sprung into view, her long brown hair dancing about her, a tight leather and steel armor set trying to contain all of her muscle. Behind her came a militia of farm folk wielding whatever they could make pass for a weapon, pitchforks, pickaxes, and fire-pokers. They smashed into what remained of the flanking party and sent them all scrambling back for the tree line.

"Don't worry little orc," she said cheerfully. "Phileas found your dwarf friend halfway to West Watch, he's at home with the children.

With that she slung her compound bow and drew forth a pair of wicked looking blades, and danced into what was left of their enemy there.

The main battle raged on, with the goblin horde losing ground by yards to the forest edge. Captain Winslow had taken charge of the town guard again and was pressing the enemy back into the woods. The militia secured the town and rallied the women and children to take care of the wounded. The hound knights advanced into the trees to run raids against the retreating foe. Haudil nodded to Makoa before he disappeared into the woods.

"Makoa, Sage." Alistaine called to them as the battle ended. "The creature must be destroyed before this can be truly over."

The pair nodded agreement and they tore off to the West to find an alternate path.

They rode for a while before the wizard bade them to stop in a glade, dismount, and follow after him. The mountain was near silent, save the sounds of the distant battle being fought in the cliffs above. Minutes passed with Makoa's heart racing, following the wizard into what appeared to be a gorge with no exit save the way they came.

"I used to frequent these hills," the wizard began. "Back in the days of my youth, before magic had ever entered my mind. Back in those days, the hold was quiet of foul things such as goblins. It was one day, oh perhaps thirty years ago, that I found this stair to the top of the mountain."

They were looking at the same sheer cliff they had been minutes before. It towered above them and then jutted over them even.

"I don't see anything at all." Makoa said frustrated.

"An illusion." The Sage said flatly. "Optical, not magical."

Makoa walked ten paces to his right and saw what he spoke of. A winding stair stood before them, leading to a ledge some hundred feet above.

The orckin started up hurriedly to scout ahead. The stair would let them out into a tunnel that Makoa knew led back into the heart of the mountain and hopefully to that demon's lair.

The Sage and Alistaine hurried behind him and found their way into the tunnel where Alistaine lit a mage light and sent it before them.

"Makoa," The Sage laughed. "You have been replaced."

"No manner of stealth mind you." The Wizard explained. "but there's no need for that now."

They raced up the slope of the winding passage, catching their breath here and there. Always with Makoa ahead waiting for the slightly physically inferior pair to catch him. It was another thirty minutes or so winding into the mountain until Makoa felt something familiar of the tunnel he was in.

"Makoa is onto something." The Sage explained to the wizard before he could slam into the heavy half-orc.

Tracks were familiar here, namely his own. And then there came the sound of running water. They were close. Makoa raced up the slope to the sound of the falls and after a few sharp turns found they were farther down the passage they had leapt from all those hours ago.

"Shit." The Sage added knowingly.

"I sense it, the creature." Alistaine said calling his mage light back to his staff. "A whisp of evil, malignant. A body snatcher."

The word hissed above them in the air, echoing from the walls in the chamber.

" _You brought… a wizard."_ Began that dual voice. _"Sensible of you, but a waste of time. I sense this wizard has no knowledge of banishments or smites."_

"On the contrary I do know a thing or two about getting rid of malformed ethereal sludge." Alistaine replied calmly.

" _Even if you do, no matter. The goblins are returning, defeated by your haphazardly collected brigade of miscreants."_ It reflected.

The boy entered the chamber near the edge of the water his eyes aflame with a white sun, a grin forming at the corners of his delicate mouth.

" _Perhaps I will have them strip you of your flesh so you can watch them eat you alive."_

"Makoa," shouted the Sage "Hold them as long as you can, and don't die!"

The orckin nodded and gritted his teeth before he bounded past the child warily and headed back up the stair.

" _Wise man. You knew I was no danger so long as I was trapped in this fleshy vessel."_

In an instant the boy snapped his own neck and fell into the water to be washed off the cliff and into the pool below.

" _But this is just a sample of my power."_

The hiss was above them both and that cold, soulless laughter echoed all around the hall.

He ignored the ritual chamber where he had made his escape earlier, and seen that boy possessed. Makoa needed to just make it to the funnel. He was halfway up the pitch black passage when he saw the first goblin coming down the slope. Before it could stop itself Makoa laid waste to it with a downward strike. The creatures head exploded and his falchion cleaved its chest in two.

Yelps and screeches reverberated down to him and he knew that the goblins were coming to defend their master. Farther into the cave he heard their collective movement, like terrible metal driver ants. Moments later they came racing down the passage streaming in a black wave of swords and spears. The falchion rested its tip on the ground and kicked up in a wide sweeping arch as the first wave came at him hacking two clean in half and sending the closest two into either wall. Makoa advanced and swung downward wrecking two more before snapping one's neck and stomping on the others bare head.

A pair of arrows whizzed past his face, with one ricocheting off of his half helm on his pack. It was at this moment that Makoa realized he had not worn the thing all night. Before the next wave hit him he placed it onto his head and dropped the visor. He lost his peripheral vision but he did not need it here.

A stone bounced off of his head and staggered him and a pair of the little bastards jumped on his chest just to be sent flying into their advancing brothers. Another falchion strike sent two more into the air in pieces and his downward slash cut another in two. Another pair of arrows zinged by with one ricocheting off the rounded side of his helmet. He dipped low and picked up one as he ran and slammed it to the ground with a bone jarring crunch.

The next bought of melee was a blur of swords and dodged arrows, he killed a few more, and then advanced farther up the passageway, refusing to give ground. He felt an arrow pierce his thigh above the guard. A sword slashed his hand in the fray and he pummeled the goblin who did it with a hammer first that dented his helmet and likely scrambled its brain.

Another arrow between his shin and thigh guard crippled his right knee and forced him to put his weight on his left leg. His upward slash was hideous but still sliced open the crude armor of the next goblin to attempt a melee. Makoa became wiser and stacked the bodies between him and the archers taking a few glancing blows from slings.

He was exhausted, and the goblins were too terrified to advance any farther taking heed of the meat wall he had constructed of their kin. His back met the passage wall to his left and he slowly, against his will slid the length of it to the ground on his great orc ass. Instead of fear, or regret he felt anger at what he knew was death. It was soft, dull, and unavoidable.

"Torag," he whispered. "Grant me strength."

Before he closed his eyes he saw a blinding light, and then darkness.

*SLAP*

"Hey," a clearly dwarvish voice called. "Hey you, you green bastard get up!"

Makoa opened his eyes to see a dwarf glowing white, with a beard clear to his feet staring him full on in the face. He startled and then tried to go to his knees and felt the arrow there pierce deeper into the knee cap.

"Aye, that one would hurt." The dwarf said examining his various wounds. "Don't worry, I'll get it taken care of in a moment here. Just have a few things to say."

Makoa looked about, nothing moved, not the goblins overhead, not the orange light of the fire that should have been flickering below, not even the goblin he left half alive out of laziness at the bottom of the slope.

"Hey, focus here." The dwarf demanded.

"The Sage, Alistaine," Makoa croaked.

"Oh, gods be blessed," he growled. "Look those two are fine they have that whispy thing under control I suggest you worry about yourself."

"Who are you?" Makoa asked weakly.

"Wuh…?" He broke off. "Am I a god? Oh, you only just asked for my aide a few second ago, actually. I am Torag, your patron god of sorts, god of the dwarves, of your father. It's like you just don't even care. Mortals these days just calling out to gods on a whim."

"You didn't have to come," Makoa grumbled. "Are you going to help or not."

Torag looked flustered and then laughed a hearty laugh.

"Aye, spoken like a true dwarf I'll give you that. Interestingly enough I have to say you are one of two orcs who actually pray to me you know that?" Torag pulled the arrow from his knee placing his hand over the wound.

The thing boiled and healed instantly and Makoa felt the pain ebb swiftly.

"One of two?" Makoa asked trying not to focus on his care. "Who is the other one?"

"Crazy grey fella who lives in the Far Reach, actually thinks he is a dwarf. Not like you where you belong to the culture, he just hates orcs and loves dwarves. Lives alone in a cave, eats raw chicken, disgusting. But hey, I can't pick every worshipper you know."

The arrows were removed and his wounds healed. Torag picked him up by his shoulders and threw him to his full height in the cave.

"Hey Lad, remember this. I've got your back as long as you have mine. Remember my tenants. Defend the weak Lad, uphold the good, and never forget you are your father's son."

Torag vanished in a flash, leaving behind a smoldering crater where he had stood. Time started again, and Makoa felt a blazing warmth from the amulet that hung around his neck. He felt rested like he never had before. His aches were gone, his muscles were renewed and as the goblins from above started to make their charge he roared so load that it almost made the cave walls tremble.

When the battle was done, the goblins laid slain at his feet, a few more arrows had made their way into his arms but they were easily popped out by tightening his chain link shirt. As he started his descent into the ritual chamber he heard the Sage and Alistaine's voices. He raced down to meet them and they stood in the middle of the chamber, the fire extinguished.

"Makoa!" shouted the Sage, grinning from ear to ear. "You lucky bastard."

"It wasn't all luck." He replied, touching the amulet at his neck. "I had a little help from above."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say boy-orc."

"How did you kill that thing?" Makoa asked confusedly. "You don't even look that beat up."

"Oh, a strong enough mage light is lethal for a lower-class shadow. Once we realized this it was like chasing around a giant horsefly." Alistaine said matter-of-factly.

"The wizard is too humble," the Sage said chuckling. "He set it on fire with the tip of his sword, dumb thing didn't even realize that Alistaine knew light magic."

The three of them walked down the passage way and started their way down the winding stair back to Iverstead.

The Harrington boy's body was burnt in the town square the next day for fear of contamination from the black magic he had suffered before death. All of the townsfolk came to the ceremony, where the two dozen towns guard and the seven hound knights had been killed were also burned. It was a somber moment, mixed in with the joy of victory.

Makoa and the Sage were credited with the rescue of all of the towns missing children, and the return of the Harrington boy's body. Alistaine the Bold was given a Legion of Merit for the town of Iverstead for defending it and taking up the defense when the Captain was incapable of command. Haudil and his hound knights were credited with the overall save of the battle and he was awarded a Medal for Valor for leading the charge. Maggie the Huntress, as Makoa came to learn she was called, was awarded an all-inclusive weekend retreat to High Tower where she and her husband could work on their marriage. At least that was what she called it while they were in their cups.

After the mourning was done, the Dwarven Hound Knights returned to West Watch to keep guard of the border with the Seven City States. Haudil stayed for the festivities on the account of his Shield Brother being the hero of the day. Alistaine the Bold commenced an extensive inventory of the town library to ensure that all of the tomes regarding the arcane were catalogued properly and were available for his ingestion as soon as his anticipated hangover was alleviated.

The Sage and Makoa found themselves surrounded by friends, greeted by a town of people as heroes, and for just one small moment, felt as though they belonged.


End file.
